Guide to youth

It's hard to disagree with the notion that fame, or rather the pursuit of it, is a mental disorder - that desperate craving to be seen, known and loved by a wide audience. In Michael Jackson, we've seen how one man's mental downfall can be another's windfall - his numerous yeasayers, his lawyers, the sneering tabloids have all financially gained from his very obvious illness. I pity the man, I really do.

You'd think that I'd remain a devoted listener to his music, but dammit, I haven't. I hear Keep It In The Closet and I now recoil, Rock With You and I cringe. I know I'm a wally. Hasn't history demonstrated that musical genius loves bad company? Aren't most musical icons way off the holy mark? Yes and yes again, but still . . . no. I cannot disentangle those painful images conjured up during the trial from lines such as 'I'm starting with the man in the mirror/I'm asking him to change his ways.' Drama queen? Moi?